


Fourteen

by bookwyrmling



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 15:57:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6711595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwyrmling/pseuds/bookwyrmling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is hard for most people to remember that Tezuka Kunimitsu is a fourteen year old kid. Tezuka Kunimitsu, on the other hand, finds it impossible to forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fourteen

It is hard for most people to remember that Tezuka Kunimitsu is a fourteen year old kid. He is captain of his school’s tennis team, president of the student council and, somehow, still manages to hold solidly onto his spot in the top five of the school. Sometimes the third year has to stay behind late to catch up on work for the student council. As much as the other members are hardworking and brilliant minds of their own, there are some responsibilities that belong solely to the president, after all. Kunimitsu works after the final announcements are made and the gates are locked.

The last teacher on duty stops by when they realize the council room’s key has not been turned in. “Tezuka-kun, the gates have already been closed and locked. You should be home; it’s dark out,” he or she will inevitably scold, but it’s with a proud smile for the school’s golden child and a sigh of surrender without the third year ever putting up a fight. “Just make sure that you give the key to the security guard before you leave,” he or she will remind him. Kunimitsu nods and the teacher leaves. When he finishes his work a half-hour later, the teenager organizes the room, turns off the light, locks the door and passes the key to the security guard sitting in the teachers’ room between rounds before slipping out the side gate that is locked from the outside.

It’s a common enough occurrence. The teachers see Kunimitsu as more of a peer than a student.

At home, Tezuka Ayana is a proud mother. She was worried at first, when her son was in preschool. His teacher had been concerned about the boy’s reticent nature and worried about his social maturity and ability to make friends. From Kindergarten on, however, the teachers were amazed by his brilliance and dedication. “He’s such a good kid,” they would say, “I feel like he’s wasted on me. He’s certain to test into a good junior high and I can see him going far if he keeps growing like this.” His report cards come back with straight shu and Kunimitsu foregoes testing to continue on to Seishun Gakuen Middle School where he greets the entire school on the first day as the incoming class’s representative. His voice is loud and clear and never once shakes during his speech. His eyes look out and make contact with his classmates, his upperclassmen, the teachers and parents. The Tezuka matron sees the dedication burning there and forgets that her child is only twelve.

It doesn’t help when the boy’s reading interest turns to literary classics, rather than the usual manga his peers seem to prefer gathering around at the local convenience store. By his second year of junior high school, her son speaks English more fluently than anyone in the house and Ayana is not at all surprised when she finds German and French language lesson books and dictionaries stacked with foreign literature in her son’s room while bringing in a pile of laundry.

She leaves the pile on the bed -- made that morning by its occupant before coming down to breakfast, fully dressed and ready for the day -- and knows it will be put away by dinnertime.

Tezuka Kuniharu is a proud father, as well. Yes, his son does well at school, but there is more to life than grades and teacher comments, or even tennis. He begins to take his son with him on local hikes at the age of four. He grins to himself as he watches the boy’s face slowly morph from energetic curiosity to exhausted denial, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper as he refuses to complain about aching feet and legs. Together, they climb Mt. Fuji when Kunimitsu is only eight years old. The group they are climbing with finds it impossible to believe his age and have nothing but good things to say about the kid’s athleticism, obedience and common sense. They climb the Matterhorn when Kunimitsu is ten and it is his son that points out the crumbling footholds on their descent, saving both men’s lives, not to mention the safety of the rest of their traveling company. Kuniharu thinks his son should be a bit more pleased and proud of himself when the guides praise his observation skills, climbing etiquette and sheer force of will after the climb. Kunimitsu thinks but never says his father is more than pleased and proud enough for the both of them.

Kuniharu cannot help but wonder if it is his father he just finished the climb with as he notices his son’s response in the gaze leveled in his direction.

The college student behind the counter at the bookstore closest to his house flirts with him every time he comes in to buy a new book until the store manager -- a friend of his father’s -- asks how his middle school coursework is going and her jaw drops in disbelief. She stops flirting with him after that and Kunimitsu wonders why it was such a big shock to her. He had shown her his student identification card months ago when she had placed him on a contact list for a particular publication that had sold out, but was due to be restocked in a few weeks.

Kawamura’s father offers him a glass of sake and refers to him as a teacher. Kunimitsu wonders if it is worth trying to argue the issue, but the rest of his team points his age out fast enough. This is not the first time it has happened, either. His mother had been the one to turn the server’s offer down that time, even if his grandfather had seen nothing wrong with it.

His tennis team looks up to him as a player and, while the third year regulars might speak to him on a more equal ground, Kunimitsu cannot help but wonder at the level of hero worship and respect he draws from everyone else. He’s their teammate, after all, not their coach. Even Oishi seems to think he will not be able to live up to the position of captain the way he has when the injured third year leaves the team in his hands for the duration of his rehabilitation in Kyushu. Kunimitsu refuses to assist Oishi after that, letting him figure his own way through the position. After all, fourteen year olds would not be made captains if they were not able to handle the pressure, no matter who they may be.

It is all a constant reminder that Tezuka is set apart from his peers -- his classmates and teammates.

He is not supposed to be fourteen.

Tezuka Kunimitsu, on the other hand, finds it impossible to forget that he is fourteen years old.

When he stays late for work at the student council, he works in silent solitude, exhausted from practice, his growing body groaning for dinner and his heart heavy at the realization that he still has a solid four hours of homework once he does get home. Kunimitsu wishes the teacher would tell him to wrap up and leave, as they would for any other student. He wishes all of the teachers would not look at him with worry and fears of incompetence when he raises his hand in class. He corrected one teacher, once, and had later apologized for doing so publicly when he’d recognized the man’s embarrassment and realized he wouldn’t like being corrected in front of others, either. He had just been tired that day from staying up late, so caught up in Dumas’s The Three Musketeers, that he had completely lost track of time, and he simply had not thought.

When Kunimitsu looks at the picture his mother took of him with his class representative’s badge on his first day of Seigaku, all Kunimitsu remembers was how he had practiced his speech until his throat was sore the night before, hoping familiarity would keep his voice from cracking as it had been so apt to do that spring and the following summer.

The picture next to that is of him and his father at the base of the Matterhorn, exhausted after their climb, but with a vibrant and proud gleam in their eyes all the same. When his father waxes poetic to friends, speaking of his boy’s sharp eyes and mind on the climb despite his young age, Kunimitsu only remembers the nightmares that woke him up every night for two weeks straight. He had forced himself to remain in bed after those, curled up and clinging to his blanket, lest he run to his parents’ room just to make sure his father was there and not somewhere out on the Pennine Alps, having fallen somewhere irretrievable. Kunimitsu still has that nightmare every once in a while.

While Tezuka Kunimitsu does not miss the bookstore employee’s flirting, he does regret the loss of recommendations she had made to him before then. She had good taste in books, even if she had always seemed to be extra talkative when he did buy one of the stories she had recently recommended to him. Then again, the third year finds it much easier to take his time perusing book jackets without the rest of the male clientele -- and two of the staff -- glaring in his direction.

Tezuka Kunimitsu has never tried sake and, while it certainly is not something he thinks about, the third year has to admit to himself a slight curiosity when Kawamura’s father offers him the beverage. It is not because the beverage is alcoholic, simply that it is something he is not supposed to legally have for another six years. His grandfather drinks it with his father every so often, though Tezuka Kuniharu seems to prefer a cold beer after a long day at work to a shared small bottle of rice wine. “It’s too dry,” he complains to the family patriarch. “It’s a man’s drink,” Tezuka Kunikazu replies and pours his son a glass all the same.

_A man’s drink,_ Tezuka Kunimitsu thinks to himself as he looks at the porcelain bottle in the older Kawamura’s hands. But then his team is laughing and even Ryuzaki-sensei is correcting the sushi chef’s assumption and the captain reminds himself that he is not a man yet, but he does have the responsibility of his position to uphold in front of his teammates. A captain needs to set the example -- especially for the younger members, though Kunimitsu is quite certain Momoshiro and Kikumaru are the ones he should be most concerned about -- and drinking alcohol with the proprietor’s assumption that he is old enough to do so would be a terrible example. He waves off Kawamura’s embarrassed apologies and returns silently to his meal, but his mouth still waters in curiosity. Maybe his grandfather will let him try a sip next time; though he would have to do it when his mother is out.

It is tennis, though, that is Tezuka Kunimitsu’s most frequent reminder of his age. When Oishi’s uncle tells him no tennis for four months after his elbow flares up at National’s his second year of junior high, the first thing he wants to do once the painkillers kick in is grab his racket. There is only one more year for his and Oishi’s promise. One more year to take Seigaku to and through Nationals. Next year, Kunimitsu knows he is slated for the position of captain. He knows his weaknesses after their short Nationals run and knows what he needs to work on, but he has to constantly remind himself that he is not allowed to.

When club starts up, and Tezuka’s elbow is still healing, he watches practice from an empty classroom, studying the team and beginning to place second and third years in categories for block placement. He does not expect his attention to be drawn by that cocky first year picking a fight with Arai during the first team practice of the year, but, as he watches this Echizen learn to control an ancient, battered racket far better than Arai can control his top of the line instrument, Kunimitsu feels the start of a fire in his chest as he wonders what it might be like to play him on equal footing. He hates the doctor’s orders even more now and ignores his own rules when he writes Echizen’s name down for Block D. It’s best for Echizen, he tells himself as he remembers the feel of a racket slamming down on his left arm. Kunimitsu does not want to see that happen ever again and he worries the cocky first year might drive Arai to such an attempt.

It is in the match against Fudoumine that Tezuka Kunimitsu recognizes the shadow in Echizen’s play that had been nagging at him since the Ranking Matches. He says nothing, but, in his mind, continues to compare. An imitation, he decides, a copy, and one still too young, at that. I’d win too easily, he realizes with a measure of disappointment.

But he can’t help wanting to test it all the same and prove to Echizen that his father is not the only opponent he should see or reason he should play, so when Oishi’s uncle gives him the go ahead to play tennis once more, Kunimitsu pulls the dampener on his fire away and asks Ryuzaki to approve an outside match between the two of them. Despite the doctor’s warnings to avoid his drop shot and long game play, Kunimitsu knows he wants to do this and tells himself he has to -- for Echizen and the team, he reminds himself, even though his curiosity has hit its peak. He throws a tennis ball at Echizen at practice the next day to issue his challenge. He puts a bit more strength into the toss than is required.

The match on Haruno’s clay courts is nowhere near the hardest match Tezuka Kunimitsu has played, but it requires him to play all out, just as he expected. What the third year had not expected was the way his hands continued to tremble even an hour after he’d finished his cool down and how every moment his mind had, it took him back to the red clay and the red sky and Echizen slamming a smash just out of reach of his backhand. He wants to play again. Now. Doctor’s orders and Oishi’s orders be damned. Restrictions and limitations have no place in tennis with Echizen.

They have no place in tennis with Atobe Keigo, either.

Everyone on the team seems to think that the Seigaku captain’s reasons for fighting to the point of his shoulder’s destruction against the Hyotei captain are based in logic. He is fighting to take his team to National’s, but Kunimitsu knows the tournament rules. He could give this game, protect his shoulder, and let Echizen face Hyotei’s reserve. He is fighting to prove to Echizen what tennis is. It is true, Echizen needs to learn to enjoy the game, to fight with all he has no matter the opponent, but there are other ways of doing that, even if they are not as direct. He risked his shoulder to be able to move past his injuries. That is the worst explanation the third year hears and it follows him on the lips of classmates, along with the other reasons, as he returns to school and up until he leaves for Kyushu.

No one seems to understand, as they’re yelling at him to forfeit, that Tezuka Kunimitsu just plain did not want to lose. He did not want to lose to Atobe, so he could not rush in his attack; not against someone nationally ranked who had been able to participate in the previous year’s Invitational games. He did not want to lose against himself by refusing Atobe’s challenge to a drawn out match. Kunimitsu would not run. He would prove himself. At that time, on that court, there hadn’t been time or room for logic and reasoning. There had been the fire of determination, the passion for the game and serve and return and volley and smash and drop shot and pain.

But while Kunimitsu loses the match, he has not lost to himself, and that, he tells himself, is what is most important.

He is still fourteen, though, he reminds himself, and the disappointment of his defeat does not fade easily.

It transforms, instead, into a steady disappointment in himself and his progress. He’s healing well, the doctors say. He can start playing any time. Tezuka Kunimitsu still cannot raise his arm above shoulder height. He misses his room, misses his parents and his grandfather and feeding the koi in the backyard. He misses his friends, misses the bus driver who greeted him every morning as if he were an adult. But no matter how much he misses all of that, Kunimitsu’s arm locks every time he attempts to lift it.

Every time, that is, until a young girl’s safety is threatened as she attempts to stand up for him. Who cares about pain? Who cares about possibly worsening his injury? Tezuka Kunimitsu is fourteen and he won’t let a girl who isn’t even ten be injured trying to defend him.

The ball he hits smashes into the other player’s court with a resounding snap and the fire that had been missing burns hot again in the third year’s chest and in his eyes. “Allow me to thank you guys.” It is only after his gratitude has been so thoroughly pounded into their minds and bodies that they will never forget, even in old age, that Kunimitsu let’s the last player collapse to the ground without a demand that he stand back up. Even so, as he turns back to Miyuki and sees her safely off, his anger fades as excitement floods in.

It was time to go home.

Just in time for Nationals.

Playing again is rapture. Playing and winning and progressing and proving to everyone that he is back and he is fine. That he cannot be defeated, no matter what he faces: the Hitman and Kabaji, even the bastardized doubles game against Chitose. There was nowhere to go but up, nothing to do but improve. He’d faced devastating injury and debilitating yips and conquered them. Why shouldn’t Nationals be the same?

Or yakiniku?

Though, fourteen years old or not, Tezuka Kunimitsu should have known to keep Inui’s special concoctions away from the grills. Then again, the competition, the camaraderie, the food -- it was all almost worth Ryuzaki’s scolding. Watching his teammates, sitting in seiza with him as their coach railed at the exorbitant bill they had racked up for her, switch between poor recovery over Inui’s concoctions, laughter at the situation and chagrin when Ryuzaki mentioned the actual amount, Kunimitsu decided, tipped it all over into being worth it.

The day of the finals, Tezuka Kunimitsu is not quite sure how to respond when their first year rookie, Echizen Ryoma, fails to show up. The cap and jacket kept on hand for Horio’s use in case he sleeps in as he did the day they faced St. Rudolph were pulled out and Kunimitsu thanked the powers that be they made it passed the opening greetings, if only by the skin of their teeth.

He was first to play today, and he was facing Sanada. Of course he was facing Sanada, and, as Kunimitsu stepped up to greet the man on the court, a thrill ran down his spine. He would win again.

Only, any fourteen year old knew that lightning never struck the same place twice.

But who else other than a fourteen year old could make the impossible possible? So Kunimitsu fought with everything he had and more. He tore his arm up once again, risked his tennis once again, because what was tennis without the risk and what was a win without the battle?

Even if he did not win.

Because, even more than the risk, what was tennis without the fun?

As the match with Rikkai progressed, Seigaku winning some and losing some, Tezuka Kunimitsu became even more assured in that realization. Kaidoh’s awakening, Fuji’s sixth counter, Eiji and Oishi’s mastery of synchro and Echizen! More than anyone else, Echizen Ryoma’s opening of the final door of Muga no Kyochi proved to Kunimitsu that there was nothing more important to tennis than fun. Watching the twelve year old smirk while knocking Yukimura’s jacket off, bounding around the court after playing who knows how many points against who knows how many opponents just in order to recover his memories -- memories lost even of his family but regained through tennis -- pulled at the Seigaku captain’s chest and, even without Saiki Kanpatsu no Kiwami, Kunimitsu was able to see where this match would end even before the two halves of the tennis ball smashed on opposite sides of Yukimura Seiichi’s court.

In one month, Tezuka Kunimitsu would be turning fifteen. As soon as he graduated middle school, he would be moving to Germany to join the ITF Junior rounds. But right now, right here, he and his team had won the Nationals and Kunimitsu smiled.

Maybe being fourteen was not such a bad thing, after all.

...Assuming Inui never showed that video to anyone.


End file.
